


Lines Crossed

by Apricus



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Oral Sex, Sometime Post-Book 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricus/pseuds/Apricus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurent is drunk and not himself. Damen isn't terribly motivated to stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by, but diverges from, Pacat's glorious Kings Rising chapter 9 snippet. I was fixated on the vision of a drunk Laurent, and the mention of crossing lines. What lines exactly?!! AHHH! So many possibilities. This is just my stupid imagining of some scene from the future.
> 
> These books have basically destroyed my already meager grasp on sanity. I love these boys so much. I needed to spew out some crappy, self-indulgent writing or I was going to lose my mind before February 2016.
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've actually had the courage to post. I'm terrified, but CP dragged it out of me like a winch.

Damen awakened to a dull thump at the bedroom door. Not a knock precisely, more as though a body had impacted it. He heard the low voice of his guard, Ander, obviously trying to keep the disturbance to a minimum, pleading in little more than a whisper. The arrogant voice that responded brought him upright in the bed.

"You-- You must stand aside!"

"Please, Your Highness."

"You are so diligent in your protection of him. But he will punish you when he finds that you've blocked my entrance."

"He said that no one was to enter."

"He makes exceptions for me. And maybe I-- I can make an exception for you. You are rather like him, aren't you? They do breed men large in the south."

Ander's voice was louder, more distressed, "No, please. Your Highness, no!"

Damen had thrown a shirt over his shoulders and was at the door, lifting the lock and pulling the heavy handle toward him. 

Poor, confused Ander looked like a terrified animal. Laurent was draped over him, an arm around his neck while he ran the fingers of his other hand along the waist of Ander’s pants.

"Laurent! You're frightening my men." Dark, sensual, inebriated eyes met Damen.

"You are going to regret this tomorrow," Damen said. "Stop this and come inside."

"See." Laurent whispered in Ander’s ear, "I told you I was exceptional."

With an apologetic glance at Ander, Damen moved Laurent bodily, with an arm about his torso, transferring his weight from Ander and mostly carrying Laurent into the room and onto a chair at the small table near the window. Damen seated himself across the table as he heard the door discreetly close behind him. He knew that this situation looked illicit, but that Ander would never reveal any of it.

"Why are you drinking?" asked Damen.

"Why are you not?" Laurent lolled to the side, slipping from the chair.

Damen extended an arm to push him back in place. "Sitting is difficult, isn't it?"

"A great many things are difficult. Why don't you drink with me?" Not without struggle, Laurent fingered the laces at his wrist until a green bottle slid out. He grinned triumphantly. "See! Magic."

The loose, brilliant smile tore at something in his chest and Damen acquiesced with a wary smile of his own. "Fine, pour. If you think you can," he pushed an empty cup across the table with one finger.

Most of the liquid miraculously fell into the cup, and when Laurent waveringly lifted the bottle to bring the remainder to his lips, Damen reached to catch it.

"I think you're fine already, sweetheart," and Damen downed the bottle. He reached for the cup and did the same.

The dizzying smile returned, and again Laurent slid sideways in the rigid chair. He caught himself this time, just before Damen's hand made contact.

"I'm so tired," said Laurent.

"Then go back to your room and go to sleep."

"Not what I mean." Yellow hair fell over his downturned face. "I'm tired of this fight."

Damen didn't say anything. What could he say? He leaned forward and let a finger tentatively touch the back of Laurent's hand. He traced slow circles in the white skin.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," Laurent continued. "I don't even know why I thought I wanted it. I never had a choice."

"Laurent. You do nothing but make choices, every minute of every day. And not only for yourself, but for everyone around you. You can finish this. You've never merely _let_ things happen to you."

Laurent's crystalline blue eyes raised to his. "Well, I did once, didn't I?"

The lazy motions of Damen's fingers froze. He removed his hand and leaned back in his chair. He closed his fist around the bottle in a concerted effort to keep his rising rage in check. This was not the way Damen wanted the conversation to go. Laurent was already drunk, unleashed from his typical, sharp control.

"Let me take you back to your room. You'll feel better tomorrow," said Damen.

Laurent emphatically shook his head no. His hand slid out from under him along the tabletop and he canted in the chair. This time, Damen wasn't close enough to halt his roll, and Laurent landed on his side against the stone floor.

At least he seemed to find humor in his situation. Laurent was laughing when he looked up.

"I'm afraid I am all amiss, and in front of the King of Akielos. Does my current embarrassing condition weaken my international standing?" And with that he began giggling uncontrollably at his own word choice.

Even crumpled on the ground, drunk, and behaving ridiculously, Laurent was so beautiful. Maybe more beautiful like this.

Damen's heart faltered in his chest. He needed to touch Laurent, to feel him in his arms, if only while chastely lifting him from the floor. He crouched to slip an arm under Laurent, carrying him across the room to deposit his limp form on the pile of cushions near the empty fireplace. "Rest here, love. The chair wasn't working."

Beneath the intense fumes of alcohol, he could smell Laurent's skin. His hands moved carefully against the crushed silk of Laurent's shirt as he began to reluctantly withdraw.

Laurent clasped arms around Damen's neck and pushed his face into Damen's hair. He made a luscious moaning noise that nearly unhinged Damen.

"Laurent, let go."

Laurent's grip tightened around him.

Damen placed his hands over Laurent's and carefully pried them off, then shoved them into the pillows over his head.

"Is this what you want, Laurent? Because when you were sober, you made very clear that I wasn't to touch you ever again."

Laurent's dark eyes gazed into his. The humor was gone, replaced by a dangerous, intimate energy. Damen swallowed hard once.

"Why are you doing this? You are making me crazy, Laurent." He wanted Laurent so badly that his muscles ached with the need to hold him, to run his hands over Laurent's flushed skin and feel their bodies move together. He felt lightheaded.

There was another interval of silence, Laurent only looking at him, seeming to challenge him. With Laurent so provocative and willing, there was no way to stop it. After all, he wasn’t the one who had imposed this senseless separation upon them. He would deal with the repercussions tomorrow.

Damen succumbed. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips over Laurent's, felt Laurent's mouth open, the alcohol making him more soft and pliant than usual. Laurent hummed pleasure low in his throat and Damen answered by pushing his tongue between Laurent's lips, sweeping it intoxicatedly along the inside of Laurent's hot, alcohol-flavored cheek. Laurent's hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it and sending him toward an edge from which he felt unable and unwilling to return. Instead of pulling back, as he knew he should, Damen pressed his palm into the small of Laurent's back, lifting his waist and hips and pressing them closer together. In spite of the calmative effects of the alcohol, Laurent was clearly amorous. The thought of Laurent wanting him, wanting this, forced all other thought out of Damen's head. His hands moved abstractedly to the threads at Laurent's pants, ripping at them impatiently until Laurent was undone. Damen didn't bother to undress him further, he simply dropped his head to Laurent's cock and slipped it into his mouth before Laurent could muster an objection.

But no objection was forthcoming. The only sound that escaped Laurent's lips was the heady cry that accompanied a quick, uncontrolled jerk of his hips. Needing no further encouragement, Damen sucked harder, savoring the warm, slick skin in his mouth.

Hands reached down to pull at Damen's hair, urging him back up.

"Please fuck me." Laurent's voice dripped like nectar from pink lips. Damen closed his eyes against the pull of it.

"I don't think I need to." Feeling rather proud of himself for throwing one of Laurent's absurd comments back at him, Damen slowed his urgency and brought his tongue slowly, teasingly down the side of Laurent's cock. Muscles twitched. Laurent raised up on his elbows in weak protest, but Damen shoved him down with one hand while wrapping his other around Laurent and stroking, his tongue still playing at the tip. "You are going to come in my mouth this time."

Laurent's head went to the side, his eyes squinted closed, "No. I am not your slave and I won't do anything you order me to."

_Want to bet?_ Damen thought. Laurent’s pointless squirming and silly halfhearted defiance only served to bring out a determined, competitive resolve in Damen.

"Don't be childish, Laurent. You are going--"

A knee impacted Damen's chest with a force that took his breath out of him. Laurent was scrambling out from under him with a strange, panicked intensity. Then the knowledge hit him. He knew what he had said wrong.

Laurent was already pushing to his feet, shakily fighting his drunken fog and moving toward the door. 

"Wait!" Damen moved to follow. "Fuck! I'm sorry, Laurent. Don't go!"

The whole room was emerging from the silky haze of intimacy and coming into a sickening focus, Laurent looking suddenly younger and damaged. Damen's violent desire to make love to Laurent was washing away like water down a drain. Now, he only wanted to somehow shelter him.

"Please don't go! I won't touch you. I won't speak. You can sleep here."

Laurent was breathing heavily when he paused at the door to lace his pants. Damen likewise stopped, holding a few feet back with impotent arms lifeless at his sides.

"It's not your fault," Laurent said. "I know that." Still facing the door, Laurent's breathing slowed, once again reigned in under that infuriating, impenetrable framework of control. His spine straightened. His hand grasped the door handle and pulled.

"I'm okay. It's only that I need to go." And with that, he slipped away.

The door clicked shut. Damen wheeled to the table, grasped the green bottle and threw it with all his power against the stone wall. He dropped to his knees, fists clenched and knuckles pressed hard into the solid floor.

Laurent was not okay. And Damen would not be okay with any of it until the Regent's blood soaked his sword.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I fully intended to write a little fluffy porn piece, but then it developed a life of its own and took a turn. I couldn't stop it.
> 
> Feedback is welcome. Writing is confusing. I struggled with the balance of explicitly saying things vs. implying them. Does it make sense? Does it beat you over the head? Ugh...self-doubt...


End file.
